Lingering Spirits
by Lucinda
Summary: A trilogy from the perspective of Madelyne after her death during Inferno.
1. Revenant

Author: Lucinda  
Story #1 in 'Lingering Spirits' trilogy  
rating: pg, pg 13  
disclaimer: I do not own Madelyne Pryor or anyone else from Marvel Comics.  
distribution: Luba, anyone else ask first.  
  
  
She was a spirit, her body slain by her sister/progenitor. She was still here, still waiting and watching from the astral plane. She had felt herself die, felt her last breath of air turn sour and choking in her lungs, felt as her body shut down, and everything had gone dark. But she was still here, still watching, waiting. Jean had taken her child away, her little Nathan. Now, Scott would have what he'd always wanted, his beloved Jean, and his wonderful darling baby boy... and she was dead.  
  
It wasn't fair. She would have done almost anything for Scott. She had been his wife, his devoted wife, willing to follow him to the ends of the earth, or beyond, just to be with him. Just to try to live happily ever after with him. He had been a hero, one of the X-Men. HE had been away from her so often, fighting for the Dream, to help those in need. She had accepted that, had understood that Scott needed to be a hero.   
  
But then came the phone call, that evil, horrible phone call. Jean Grey was alive. His first love, the one that he had mistaken her for, was alive. He had packed his bags immediately, to go to her. He had come back, physically, but she had watched as he grew more distant from her, until his mind was almost never there with her, always away, with the other one, the other redhead, his precious Jeannie, released from her bottle, a cocoon at the bottom of a bay.  
  
Scott had left her alone, and she had had to flee for her life, running from terrible people that wanted to kill her, to kill her unborn baby. She had got away, but it had left a scar, not physically, but mentally. They had tried to kill her because of her husband, and he hadn't even been there to try to save her. He had been away, with HER.  
  
Perhaps the downward spiral had started with the phone call, or perhaps it had been the killers in the night, but she had started to doubt her value, to doubt her worth in the eyes of others, particularly in the eyes of her husband. He had even asked if she would grow her hair longer, and it wasn't until later that she had learned that Jean had always worn her hair long. Had she become nothing more than a substitute? Had she ever been more than an imitation, a double for the woman that he had really wanted?  
  
They had her son. The one good thing that she had done and she had nearly killed him, just to lash out at Scott... no, not just at Scott. There was also Sinister, the monster that had created her. She had been grown from a sample of Jean's tissue, a clone with no life, and no past of her own. Jean had died, and he had wanted her to bear children, to carry on her genetic legacy. When she had died, he had created Madalyne, a second chance for the Grey genes to be passed on. He had created her to be a walking womb, and placed her where Scott would find her, knowing that he would want any shadow of Jean that he could get.  
  
She had wanted so badly to be needed, to have Scott need her. At the time, she hadn't thought anything of it, believing it normal for a woman who was desperately in love. Her life had revolved around him almost from the moment that they had met. He had become her everything.  
  
But here, now that she was no more than a ghost, a memory of who she used to be, a presence in the astral, she could think clearly. Sinister had created her to produce offspring with Scott. He had implanted her piloting abilities. Had he also played with her mind, shaped her behavior and attitudes so that she would become so dependant on Scott? Was her near compulsive need for Scott and to be with him, to make him happy the failsafe of an evil scientist?  
  
Or had it been something else? She had awakened after Jean's death, her body sparked into activity by the returning Phoenix Force, carrying with it fragments of Jean's essence and memories. The memories of a happy family had been Jean's. Had she only loved Scott because Jean had loved him? Had her feeling been nothing more than a carry-over from a dead woman, delivered by a fiery shape?  
  
The other thing that bothered her was, well, why was she still here? Weren't the spirits of the dead supposed to go... somewhere? Some sort of heaven or hell or reincarnation or something? Not this, not hanging on the astral plane, waiting for something, some change or continuation of her journey or some metaphysical something or other. Her body was dead. So, why was her spirit still here? Did the bargain that she had made with S'ym have something to do with why she hadn't moved on?  
  
About all that she could do was ponder her brief existence. Like a mayfly, she had been created, reproduced, and then she had died. Gone out with a dramatic final defiant gesture, transforming the whole city into a demon land... But her defiant gesture had been forgotten, explained away by the people of Manhattan, left to rot in the past of the X-Men. Her son had been taken away, raised by Scott and his perfect Jean.  
  
She could only ponder, and wait, and consider. If she had the opportunity to leave the astral plane, she would do it. No matter what happened, it would surely be an improvement to this horrible nothingness. To move on to an afterlife, as long as it wasn't this void would be good. Or to be reborn, to have a new life, a real life, that would be something. Perhaps she could even step into a body, if one was left vacant?  
  
The spirit of Madelyne could only wait, and watch for a chance, any chance.  
  
End Revenant. 


	2. To Walk Again

author: Lucinda  
story #2 in Lingering Spirits trilogy.  
rating: pg  
disclaimer: not mine. Nobody from Marvel is mine.  
distribution: please ask first.  
  
  
  
  
The spirit of Madelyne felt it, like the astral plane had just shuddered, as if it were suddenly subject to the tides of the ocean, and tossed on the waves. Something very big had just happened, and it's ripple had shaken the astral plane the way an earthquake shakes the ground. She could also feel a new presence in the physical world, someone whose psionic abilities burned like a bright star, shining like a beacon. Where had this new presence come from? Had someone had vast gifts suddenly awakened? Had the Phoenix Force returned to earth? Could this possibly be from a child or young teenager's powers manifesting for the first time? Or had Sinister gone back to his cloning, trying to create another copy of Jean?  
  
The only way to find out was to go there, to find the source of that power and see who or what it was. Fortunately, in the astral, she could literally travel at the speed of thought. It was a bare moment later that she found herself in a dark alley, looking at the collapsed form of a young man, perhaps twenty. He had brown hair falling around his head in an uneven cut, and he was dressed in strangely cut dark blue leather. There was something about him that looked almost familiar, as if he resembled someone that she had known.  
  
The young man was trembling, and looked as if he were exhausted, or having some sort of bad reaction to something. "Please... someone... help me." His words were a ragged whisper, and there was something about his voice that was also familiar.  
  
He looked so lost, so alone. Maybe he could offer him a bit of comfort. She reached out, intending to offer him the only thing a spirit could, a whisper that he wasn't alone. She could feel his mind recognize her presence, feel the hum of power from him in that sliver of contact. There was something almost familiar to the signature of his mind.  
  
She felt raw power flood through her, a searing, white hot rush of energy, of pain and hope and life. It made her gasp, and blink back tears from her eyes even as she wondered why she would need to gasp, or when a spirit could cry.  
  
She saw his hand, reaching out into the air, a silent plea for help to match the one that he had breathed moments before. Reaching, she felt her hand close over his, and she helped the young man to his feet. She was holding onto his hand, her hand was solid. She was solid, no longer a mere spirit watching the world. She breathed in, the air laden with so many scents and a bit of humidity, neither of which existed on the astral plane.  
  
He looked up at her, and she saw the single lock of white hair that fell into his eyes, pretty hazel eyes that looked so familiar. Everything about him looked achingly familiar, almost like a younger version of Scott, but the shape of his face was subtly different, there was a hint more red to his hair, his cheekbones were a bit different. But there could be no doubt in her mind that he was related to the Summers family, related to Scott, the man that she had loved, and then had hated. One of the few people that she could never manage to be indifferent towards.  
  
He spoke again, his voice a bit steadier, but his words shook her to the core. "I'm Nate Grey."  
  
Almost automatically, she introduced herself "Madelyne Pryor", but her mind was spinning with questions. Nate Grey? Could this be her little boy, grown up? Had she been dead for that long? But no, this man, this Nate had only just appeared, as if newly created. If he hadn't been here minutes ago, where had he come from? How was it that he looked so much like Scott, and had the last name of Jean?  
  
How was it that he had the power to let her live again? The power that had flooded her, had given her tangible form had been his. The amount of power that it would have taken... she could only imagine. Even Professor Xavier hadn't been able to bring back the dead. Wait, he was talking again...  
  
"...some sort of weapon, but I don't want to be a weapon. I just want to be Nate, but I'm not sure who that is, what I can do, what I want to do. I thought I might be able to find out, but then everything got so bright, like an explosion, and I was falling. You helped me to my feet, but... I don't know where I am. I've never been here before." His voice was low, and he sounded somewhere between confused and numb and sorrowed.  
  
"Then I guess you really do need a helping hand. I can try to help you. I know how you feel, how it feels to question your identity, to despair of having a purpose, or to have a purpose be the cause of your despair. Stick with me, I'll help you figure out everything that you need to know." She smiled at him, willing him to believe her.  
  
He had brought her back with his power. What if it was only because of that power that she stayed? If that were the case, it would be best to stay near him, to make certain that he wanted her to stay until she could figure out the boundaries of her new existence.  
  
"How would you know... oh, you're a psi also. Are you reading me?" Nate's voice held a bit of curiosity, but there was no sign that he was comparing her to Jean.  
  
She linked her arm to his, feeling the warmth of his body and delighting in being able to feel again. "Only your face, sugar. I am a psi, but not on your level of power. But your face tells a lot, and it's saying that you're in pain, and upset. Let's go get you some food."  
  
It was wonderful to have a body again. To live again. She didn't intend to let anyone take it from her again.  
  
End To Walk Again. 


	3. A Spirit's Corruption

author: Lucinda  
Series: #3 in 'Lingering Spirits'  
rating: pg 13  
disclaimer: not mine. Nobody from Marvel is mine.  
distribution: please ask first.  
  
  
  
Nate trusts me now. He thinks I'm here to help him, to make it easier for him to live in this world, so different from his own. In most ways, this one sounds so much better than his own world. But in that one, at least the lines between the heroes and the villains were normally drawn a bit thicker. And the heroes were in such desperate straights that they didn't have time for cruel emotional games with the people around them.  
  
I think I'm a bit bitter over Scott... well, I know I'm bitter over it. Scott and Jean and Sinister... even the X-Men. I feel as if they have all either used me or failed me somehow. Except Jean, she just got everything instead of me... but not because she needed to try for it. Scott was hers to begin with... I was never more than a substitute for HER, not in his mind. I could see into it at the end, during the Inferno. I could see into all of their minds, see how they really felt.  
  
Perhaps that helped me to go mad. Perhaps the knowledge that I was never intended to be more than a breeder to carry on a certain set of genes helped a bit. The knowledge that all the memories of my life were a lie, that I had been created in a laboratory scant months before I had awakened... It was easy to let everything overwhelm me, to stop trying to act in a rational and reasonable manner.  
  
But this isn't much more real. I'm here, I have a body, I can walk around, touch people, interact, but this isn't quite real either. Only my thoughts are truly real. My body... it's not truly real. It's somehow a physically manifested construct, created and sustained by Nate. I have a body because of his power.  
  
He doesn't know. He knows that this isn't his world, that people he knew before don't know him here, might be dead here, or live on different sides of the line between 'heroes' and 'villains'. But he doesn't know that I'm not quite real.  
  
I discovered it by accident. I got a bit to far away one night, and I felt my body... waver, I guess. My stomach felt queasy, and I felt light-headed. I could almost see though my hand. I hurried back to where Nate was, and everything was solid and right again.  
  
I hate it. I wasn't real to people before. Now, my 'reality' is dependant on Nate, his proximity, his belief in me.  
  
Nate's gone. He was going to look at something, check some detail or other, and now he's vanished. I can't find him, can't fell the pattern of his mind anywhere. He's a decent kid, i don't want anything to ruin that. More personally, if he perishes, I do. Again. I have no idea how long I have, how long it will take before this created body starts to fall apart on me, unraveling to nothing.  
  
Tonight, I went out for a drink at a local bar. Normally, I'm not much for drinking, but... I might unravel out of existence at any moment. That's the sort of thing that I'd rather not face completely sober. I wanted to try to think about this, try to figure out how this works.  
  
Try to find a way to exist on my own, without Nate sustaining me.  
  
There was a man watching me. Not ogling my body in this tight black leather, or mentally undressing me. No, this man was watching me, studying my actions, analyzing my behavior. He was the only one to notice my little trick with the darts. Now, he's following me on my way out, and I can feel the questions burning in his mind, along with an image, a dark haired woman, also dressed, barely, in black leather. I know her face, her name is Selene. The X-Men fought against her, she was, at least once upon a time, the Black Queen of the Hellfire club.  
  
"I know what you did in there. Making everyone see the darts where they weren't. Quite the waste of potential." The man's voice was smug, holding arrogance like a shield. As if I couldn't know what sort of potential I had, couldn't have done something more... impressive in that bar.  
  
"So? What makes you think I care what you think you know?" He was an annoyance. He seemed to want me to feel intimidated by him, and I wasn't about to let it happen. Besides, I had faced far more frightening things than this little man.  
  
"What if I were to say I knew someone that could help you develop your..." the man paused, glancing over my body, lust tingeing his thoughts. "your potential. There are far more things that you could do with your abilities than win drinks in a smoke filled bar."  
  
"So there are. But if I ask someone to teach me, I'll just go directly to the top. I don't believe in messing with middle-men anymore." I had lost her patience with the man. He had started to look at me the same way the others in the bar had, a commodity to use. I hated that, hate the idea of being used and discarded. I turned, intending to walk away, towards the last place that I thought Nate had been.  
  
Frustrated, seeing his chance about to walk away, the man reached out, grabbing my arm, jerking me around to face him. Anger seared through my body, and I reached out, seizing him, and somehow 'squeezed' and 'pulled' at the same time. Heat flood through my body, almost as hot as my anger, and the man's mouth opened in a soundless scream, but I still heard it, echoing inside of my mind. He dropped to the ground, unmoving.  
  
"I think I'll talk to Selene. She might be just the person to teach me how to survive on my own. After all, she's been surviving far longer than any normal woman should." Madelyne walked away, headed towards the address of Selene's mansion, something that she had pulled from the man's mind as he had tried to scream. He wasn't moving as she left, and she didn't look back.  
  
She hesitated a bit at the doors, looking up at the vast gothicness of the building. It was old, and beautiful, but it was a dark and intimidating beauty. This was not a place that people were intended to feel comfortable in. It was intended to convey a sense of money, and power, and authority. She knew that it had to be deliberate, and also that Selene was older still, had already been ancient when this house was still no more than plans sketched out on paper.  
  
Gathering her courage, and checking once more how solid her corporal form was, she rang the bell, hearing the echo of the sound fill the house. The woman inside would know of her presence, of that there could be no doubt.  
  
The door was opened by a pretty blond woman in a maid's uniform. The blonde showed Madelyne to a lushly appointed waiting room, decorated in lush velvets in deep red, almost the color of blood.  
  
"Mi'lady will be in to speak with you shortly." The woman's voice was quiet, subdued.  
  
It wasn't long before Selene came into the room. Madelyne could feel herself smiling slightly as she looked at the dark haired woman-predator. Selene was in a close fitting dress of a clinging purple black fabric, her lips painted almost the same shade. Her appearance hinted at shadows, mystery, and decadence, and there was a faint whisper around her, one that suggested foul secrets and corruption.  
  
"Welcome to my home, Madelyne. What brings you here? A falling out with Xavier and his people?" Selene had a faint smile as she spoke, one that made Madelyne wonder how much Selene knew.  
  
"I find myself in need of... shall we say hospitality and guidance?" Madelyne couldn't let Selene know how much she needed this.  
  
"Of course, my dear. I shall be delighted to let you stay at my home. I shall only ask that you not enter my private chambers. Everything that you need will be provided. Don't worry, dear, sweet Madelyne. I will take very good care of you." Selene's words sounded almost tender and she brushed her fingers over Madelyne's cheek as she spoke.  
  
Madelyne had the unusual feeling of knowing that she had just been given what she had asked for. Selene would take her in, would even teach her what she so desperately needed to know, to survive. Selene would take care of her.  
  
But what would it cost her? Every 'gift' had a price, this would certainly be no exception. A small part of Madelyne wondered just what this would cost her. What portion of her heart, or soul had she just signed away to this woman?  
  
end A Spirit's Corruption. 


End file.
